You hold who I was, frozen in time. He is but a corpse no longer among the living. How far has he journeyed from you. How much more has he become.
O, how watchful have I been to see you unmoved. Settled like silt along the banks of fetid waters; deeply rooted like thorns underfoot.
Here we stand. Host of the dead and I. Bear you now your arms, for neither can live while the other yet draws breath. Come and find my vanities forespent.
A bloated body
Floated gracefully by.
Swollen and buzzing,
Swarming with flies.
Its eyes like milk.
Its skin a mottled grey.
Adorned in silt
On a bright summer’s day.
The first time I saw a ghost, I was a small child lying in bed. Overhead in pitch darkness, her light drew near and retreated–drew near and retreated–in unnatural rhythm and pattern unrepeated. It wouldn’t be the last time I’d see some strange and inexplicable thing. Twenty years later, I’d reach out for disbelief to be shattered in the thrill of hearing, “Holy God, help me. Pray!” I have not yet shaken the chill, still riding my spine.
Where were you when God lost his way? When his silence spurned debates over who to love and who to hate? Where were you when love we crucified, or when we throttled grace until it died? Premeditated murder in first degree. Even these, my hands, are bloody.
She fell like rain.
Like a star.
Graceful
Up until the crash.
A lifetime of being there
Until one day she wasn’t.
Gone in an instant.
Erased from time.
Leaving behind
Only the smudge lines of her smile.
My father would call me a f——t for being less man than what he believed a man should be. Meanwhile, he has never been the father he should have been.
Sometimes we project our sins onto others.
I wrote this poem a number of years ago. I come back to it often to remind myself how far I’ve come from where I started. I’m proud of this piece and wanted to share it here. I hope you enjoy it.
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